


It's Enough

by dark_muse_iris



Series: BTS Oneshot Stories [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Anxiety, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Married Life, Mental Health Issues, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Poverty, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_muse_iris/pseuds/dark_muse_iris
Summary: Preparing dinner reminds you of all the struggles you’ve experienced in your marriage. Your husband Jungkook, ever your anchor, tries to cheer you up with gentle words.Excerpt:The large pot housed what others would call dinner, but it didn't feel worthy of the name. You didn't know whether to classify the substance as a soup or a stew. All you knew was there was a sale on carrots and you had potatoes blackening, about to expire. The spoiling food forced your hand, like so much else in your life this winter, and now you had to make do with whatever this was going to become for the next few days, until the next paycheck.





	It's Enough

_Tick-tick-tick_. The crisp clicking sound of turning on the burner set you on edge, your jaw clenched and aching as you anticipated the work before you. A worn pot sat crookedly on your stove top, an indication your meal would cook in a lopsided position no matter how many times you tried to keep the surface element level. It was truly a piece of shit, but the 1980s appliance won’t die and it was all you had to work with in the bland, beige rental unit you called home.

The cans of beef stock were over-zealous with sodium, but that didn't stop you from pouring them into the pot to start the base. You were thankful they were "buy one, get one free" at the store this week, and you repeated that under your breath as the caramel-colored liquid splashed against the pot’s steel walls. It was important to review what you were thankful for as often as possible, to solidify the habit and make the feeling of gratitude stick. The practice, although tedious, kept you grounded in what felt like a sea of uncertain times, living paycheck to paycheck, fearful of costly misfortunes.

The heat from the stove created the only real warmth you would experience that day and you tried to appreciate it as best you could. Still, a substantial piece of you hoped winter would hurry up and move on so you could feel your feet again. It's all you’ve thought about for weeks, being so frigidly cold that you were sleeping in fleece jackets and multiple layers of hunting socks—anything to stay covered and well-insulated. Your toes were as icy as your heart felt as you skimmed the surface of the bland concoction with a worn, wooden spoon, wishing for something better.

The large pot housed what others would call dinner, but it didn't feel worthy of the name. You didn't know whether to classify the substance as a soup or a stew. All you knew was there was a sale on carrots and you had potatoes blackening, about to expire. The spoiling food forced your hand, like so much else in your life this winter, and now you had to make do with whatever this was going to become for the next few days, until the next paycheck.

Preparing the ingredients went less than stellar. Your years of experience cooking meals like this informed you that the carrots and potatoes were abnormally large due to selective breeding to increase their shelf life. They would probably leave much to be desired in terms of flavor, but you had to accept them at face value. Your wallet couldn't bear the brunt of organic prices, no matter how much fresher they would taste. 

The battered chef's knife struggled against the vegetables as it tried to cut them down to size, but your anger made it work as it often did. Each meal you struggled to prepare hardened your resolve, or you at least hoped it would. You wanted, more than anything, for all the years of scrimping and scavenging to be worth it. For tonight, you were stuck with potatoes to fatten up the meal and carrots to sweeten it. After talking down the price on a few bruised mushrooms at the local food pantry, it was almost a real meal. Almost. 

The vegetables and mushrooms fell into the pot and you hoped you'd soon be rid of the gnawing feeling in your belly. It wasn't hunger, though you wished it was. That would have felt a lot more welcome than the self-loathing percolating inside of you as you gave the soup a final stir and placed the lid over the pot, hoping the ingredients would get along with one another and help sustain your family.

If you were being honest with yourself, the biggest regret pressing on your mind was knowing you paid the gas bill a couple weeks early. You regretted that now, eyes cast disdainfully on your future dinner. If only you had waited as Jungkook suggested instead of panicking about being cold, you could have afforded beef to add to the pot, making a proper stew. Beef would have made this meal special, the first real meal you could have enjoyed and not felt ashamed for. 

Several minutes passed in a fog before your eyes blinked back to the present. Opening the lid, you dipped the spoon into the broth and took a sip, then felt the droop of a frown forming on your features. All you had to season it was salt and pepper. It was hardly enough to alter the unpleasantness in your mouth—the taste of failure which turned your stomach.

After many passing moments questioning whether spices could save it, you turned the burner down to low and headed toward the window. As you approached, you felt the chill of winter in your nipples as you reminded yourself you could afford nothing more than a substandard rental unit with single pane windows. Jungkook, resourceful as he was, tried to winterize the glass with plastic sheeting to prevent unwanted drafts from entering your home, but it was no substitute for real insulation and double pane windows, another dream you hoped a future home would fill.

Your husband stood outside in the driveway, hunched over in his winter coat and beanie with a large snow shovel, clearing a path in the compacted snow so your car would be able to travel to your first job in the morning. Flesh-colored patches poked out from his coat sleeves and you felt the swell of anger again, as you remembered someone stole his gloves from a work site earlier that week and you had yet to replace them. You blamed yourself for the way his hands shook around the shovel’s handle as he dug and tossed heap after heap. He looked to be rushing the task, suffering in the single-digit temperatures that showed no sign of letting up. As you observed from the window, you recalled the day you bought the snow shovel... 

> _The hardware store had been advertising snow blowers on the radio for several days and you had put back some money, eager to jump on a good deal. But even with the sale, you discovered you could no longer afford it—not with the emergency car repair bill that appeared just the week before and saw fit to gobble up all the money you had collected, and then some. The saving grace had been, yet again, your almost-maxed-out credit card. The sadness over losing your savings was eclipsed only by the resentment of replacing something so common as an alternator, sinking your family further into debt. If only you had saved enough and avoided the setbacks, you may have been able to look upon the snow blower with ease._
> 
> _Jungkook returned to your side with light bulbs in hand to find your feet cemented in front of the shiny, untouched machine. He rubbed your back in silence as your heart ached with the sharpest envy. Even with two jobs through the week and a third on the weekends, you couldn't find a way to make all the ends meet. You never dreamed during your years in college that you would be on the verge of tears over a goddamned snow blower, and yet there were scores of memories like it, piling up season after season, where you stared and coveted and had to walk away._
> 
> _"We can get by this year with a shovel," he stated calmly, stepping forward to pick one out of an oversized display bucket. He inspected the handle and tested how it felt in his hands, trying to muster up a smile, but all you felt were pangs in your heart._
> 
> _"I was hoping we'd have enough to buy a blower this year," you murmured, feeling the lump swell in your throat._
> 
> _Jungkook tried to keep your spirits up. "We can get one next year when things get better. It's not the greatest tool to use, but it's enough. I can take care of everything. I'll shovel and salt so you won't have to go outside in it, okay?"_

Ever since the first snow, you watched as Jungkook took on additional jobs to try to bring in more money, but it was hard. Success never smiled on your family longer than a couple days, especially in the dreary season. He kept himself busy, or perhaps he kept moving to stay warm, but you noticed how much more he had added to his plate to alleviate yours. It broke your heart to see him come home from extra shifts, so tired he couldn’t speak, with only his worn eyes to express how he was feeling.

Jungkook knocked the toes of his boots against the porch's cement floor and entered your living room with a red, runny nose. The sounds of him sniffling added another day of concern, as he had been emitting the same pitiful noise for several weeks.  _We need to replace the humidifier_ , you mentally noted, approaching him with a worried look.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just the wind,” he said, as he retrieved a crumpled tissue from his coat pocket to blow his nose. The skin bridging his nose to his lips was raw and irritated, but he never complained. He simply continued to apply ointment each night to heal the skin to prepare for the next wave of sneezes and snot. 

Every day you wondered if he was going to get sick, but you couldn’t speak the words aloud. He would only tease you for worrying too much, so you never brought it up, but you couldn't help but continue to fret in silence. Flu season wasn't quite over and the threat of illness was ever-present in your mind. Without health insurance, the best you could manage was over-the-counter medication and guesswork, so anytime one of you fell ill, it was commonplace to stay sick for quite some time. Last winter had made you especially apprehensive, as Jungkook came down with a heinous ear infection and lost his hearing in one ear. The doctors wanted two hundred and fifty dollars up front to see him, and you didn't have it to give. It wasn’t the first time you lost your faith in other people, but it stayed with you, as Jungkook suffered for weeks. Now, as you gazed at him, you felt scared of everything that could go wrong.

"Something smells nice," he commented, taking off his snow-covered boots.

After the morning you've had, you tried to ignore the sadness over the lack of meat and took the compliment.

"I tried," you mumbled, helping him out of his coat and hanging it on the discolored hook next to the front door.

"I'm sure it's fine, honey."

His voice was gentle—practiced—and you suspected he was choosing his words carefully and controlling his tone to keep you from becoming upset. Over the course of your marriage, he had become gifted in de-escalation and reassurance, and you felt guilty it was necessary. You scolded yourself on his behalf in your mind because you knew you should be able to handle criticism for your cooking like any other functioning adult. He shouldn't have to walk on eggshells because anxiety prevented you from being yourself.

His hand pressed softly against your lower back as you walked toward the stove and prepared the first bowl for him. On most days his presence was enough to calm you. Today, however, nervousness stirred in your belly as you hoped he would be pleased with the meal. After all the work he had done for you in the last couple of days, you felt a nice, warm meal was the least he deserved. 

The ladle dipped into the cooking pot and brought forth a moderate portion of mixed vegetables floating in the caramel-colored broth.

"May I have a few more potatoes, please?" he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a small kiss on the back of your head. You nodded and tried to fish out more spuds for him, faltering a bit as he continued to show his affections. Was he being extra sweet because he sensed your nervousness, or was he doing it for himself? You were unsure, but the thought was enough to make you resent the fact that your anxiety made you question his intentions at all.

Jungkook took his bowl and placed it on the dining room table, then returned to hold your bowl to assist you. The next dip of the ladle pulled out more carrots and mushrooms, which you always preferred to the rest. Potatoes were bland meal filler in your eyes, and perhaps that was why Jungkook always asked for them—to ensure you had the ingredients you wanted. His gesture prevented you from feeling compelled to swallow down something unpleasant every time you had to make this meal.

As you took your seats, you calculated how many bowls of soup you would have for leftovers. You didn't need much to get by, but Jungkook's construction job required more calories, so you always gave him larger portions.

"I think there will be enough to last for two days' worth of lunches. You have a microwave at the new site, right?" you began, blowing against the surface of the soup to cool it.

"Eh, we should," he replied. "If not, I can just eat it cold."

You watched him stir the soup and you wondered how he could be okay eating cold soup on a winter's day. No matter what his circumstances had been in the last few weeks, months, years—he accepted them—and it made you wish you were a stronger person and able to handle going without luxuries as well as he could. 

The first taste of the soup passed your lips. It was mediocre and nothing to be excited about, but at least it wasn't made with only expired food this time. The mushrooms made it passable, but with each bite, you felt an ache blooming in your chest. It was a gnawing feeling, a familiar state of unease that always grew as you reflected on a meal, your home, your life, and all the ways it hadn't gone quite according to plan.

Jungkook ate from his bowl in silence, his sips interrupted by intermittent sniffles. You recalled the vows you made to each other when you were married years ago, and the stinging pain in your heart intensified. It was neither of your intentions to have your promises to one another tested so soon and so often in your marriage, but the pangs of poverty permeated every area of your lives, from the substandard home you lived in, to the lack of proper health care for your family, to the absence of meat in your spoon. Every moment you breathed was a struggle, and you wondered how many more days you'd have to smell your paltry attempts to make a poor meal pleasant. How many more years would your family struggle before you get a break? Would you even get a break, or was this the life you were fated to? Was this the best it was going to get for you and the young man sitting across the table? How much longer would it be before he realized he would be better off in another life with someone else? Would he have meat in his bowl right now if he had made a choice other than you?

The tears started to drip and dribble down your cheeks. You tried to choke back the sound, to ignore the feeling of despair completely, but the clang of Jungkook's spoon against the table made it clear he was aware of your slipping. He stood and dragged his seat next to yours, moving closer toward your trembling form.

"Come here," he ushered with an endearing voice, opening his arms to let you collapse into a full sob against his chest. His arms enveloped you like a cloak to shield from outside dangers and he allowed you to use him, to lose yourself in the sadness that meant to swallow you whole. Your throat ached from the cries, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. The air in your lungs was constricting and you worried that you would hyperventilate and incapacitate yourself, slipping into darkness. Clinging to him ardently, you ran from that part of your mind and into the calm energy he offered with each stroke of his hand against your hair.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed, soaking his shirt.

Jungkook didn't separate himself from you, instead moving his hand to caress your back. "Why are you apologizing?"

You sniffled and weakly lifted yourself from his chest. "Because I paid the gas bill too early and I didn't listen to you and we couldn't get any meat this week. It needs meat. You deserve better than this shit!"

Your jaw ached with another wave of tears incoming. It physically hurt to cry so hard but it was nearly impossible to avoid. Jungkook pulled you close again and you inhaled a deep breath into his chest, taking in the scent of his soap and laundry detergent. 

"It's enough," he assured, coaxing you to his view with a touch of his warm hand against your cheek. "It's a hot meal on a cold day, and you made it. I love everything you make. This'll last a couple days, then we'll have the next check with that overtime on it. Maybe we can get a nice pizza. Would that make you feel better?" 

You bobbed your head against his body and muttered a "yea" like a child being consoled by a loving parent. You felt pathetic to have gotten so upset over something as trivial as dinner, but you're thankful Jungkook always knew what to say in moments like these.

"I know it's hard now, ___, but this isn't our first winter living like this," he reminded you. "We've gotten through worse, honey. We'll get through this too, as long as we're together. Do you want to talk about what happened just now?"

"I got into the tunnel again," you admitted. "I know it's just dinner, but it spawned everything else again."

His thumbs collected your tears with delicate sweeps. "That's okay, it's not lasting as long as it used to. Now, will you please eat? I know you haven't eaten today. That makes it worse, you know."

"You haven't either," you remarked. 

Jungkook chuckled. "I found a pack of beef jerky in the truck and scarfed it this morning." 

Scrunching your nose, you probed further. "How old was it? I don't remember buying any of that recently."

Your husband smiled and planted a dismissive kiss on your forehead and shrugged. "It smelled good enough to pass. We'll see how it goes."

He raised his eyebrows playfully as a long pause passed between you, letting you consider what he meant by "how it goes."

"Oh god," you whined, prompting Jungkook to beam at successfully improving your mood.

"Come on," he encouraged with an affectionate squeeze of your thigh. "If you don't eat, you'll lose out on the foot rub in front of the space heater that I promised yesterday."

You frowned and pouted your lip in protest. "But my feet are cold!"

"You'd better eat then, girl!"

As you picked up your spoon to resume eating across from a man you felt you didn't deserve, you tried to muster up hope for your family. Jungkook dipped his head low, close to his bowl, and proceeded to eat with his forearms protectively framing his meal. He looked like a dog guarding his bone, but he lifted his head every now and then to watch you eat, calmly reassuring you with his eyes before taking another bite. The dinner passed in silence, but it was comforting, knowing he was there with you, keeping you grounded. Spoonfuls of soup filled your mouth and traveled down your throat, and although the taste wasn't what you wanted, you were refueling for the next obstacle to overcome. Jungkook stretched his hand across the table and took yours, giving it a squeeze to remind you that you weren't alone. You would get through the harsh season—together.


End file.
